Right, well, that was a bit odd, wasn't it? I spent last night indulging in the hardly twin pleasures of watching Ricky Hatton punching Juan Lazcano - who came out dressed as a gay conquistador - in the face, and flicking over to the Eurovision to laugh at the frankly mental performances they have every year, this time involving a bunch of Latvians dressed as pirates and a Frenchman with an inflatable globe. From this endeavour I can draw three conclusions - firstly, that I should never drink absinthe again. Secondly, that sickening violence is infinitely more entertaining than camp singing, especially when you've paid £14.95 to watch it, and thirdly, that Jovana Jankovic is a pretty one. Not since Ruslana Lyzhychko a few years ago has there been a prettier one. Somehow it's made all the better by the fact that the change I've got in my pocket from last nights' drinking could probably buy a house in Serbia or the Ukraine, so they'd probably be somewhat easier to impress with my falling about and spewing up green.
In other news, a government think tank has risked the possibility of a tiny snotty riot by suggesting that long school holidays, including the long 3-month summer holiday that forms the setting of every memory of my childhood I have past about 17, should be abolished. Frankly, I don't see why this would benefit anyone. They say it's because kids regress in maths between terms, but the thing is, that's a completely artificial construct at the best of times - they either regress in little chunks between terms, or they come to the end of their school lives, completely loathing maths like any other normal human being, and promptly fuck off and forget it anyway. I'm not sure I could tell you what a quadratic equation even is anymore, let alone how to solve one.
Still, it's taking away one of the only perks there can possibly be to being a school teacher - the massive amounts of paid holiday. Higher education might be a worthy pursuit, but for all the adverts trying to tell me that teaching is a worthwhile endeavour, I still remember school and it was nothing like it is on the telly - you just couldn't broadcast that amount of swearing, drugs and sickening violence before the watershed. Schools are like glorified holding pens for children so stay-at-home mums (or dads) can get some fucking peace instead of constantly hoover-dodging some sugared-up brat screaming at the top of it's lungs, and, when they get a little older, to keep all the vicious little thugs in one place so we know where they are when they stab someone.
Earnings of what, you say? It's not nearly enough. Working with kids should be like other mentally and physically traumatic jobs, like working the oil rigs. 6 months on, 6 months off. And once a week you should get to punch a child in the face.
Oh, and the McCanns still haven't fucked off. Now they want to shit all over your Facebook and Bebo in a bid to keep up their international superstardom, further line their filthy little pockets, oh, and maybe, if there's time, find out what happened to their daughter. I don't use Facebook or Bebo - Bebo always seems to be for small children and paedophiles, and while I have an account with Facebook, I hardly ever use the thing because I don't understand why, when I have a phone, I really need a less-than-real-time method of interacting with only people I know. At least MySpace got it right when it realised it wasn't for people like me using their service to chat up impressionable emo girls, they'd have gone under - but I can't help but think that, if this trend continues, within six months, you won't be able to look at anything, anywhere, without seeing some sort of representation of Madeline fucking McCann.
I've had enough of being unable to buy a newspaper, turn on the television or go on the internet without having a 99.9% chance of seeing something to do with Madeline, and every time you think it's died down, it gets right back up again, snapping and snarling at your enjoyable media experience like a zombie in a bad horror movie. Do they really think she's still alive? Do they think she's been hiding under a bush, eating berries and giggling, all this time? My mother is absolutely convinced that a rich Portuguese couple who cannot medically have children have taken her and are raising her as their own, with the finest of everything money can buy. Frankly if you can't handle the truth, then just don't think about it, but don't damage yourself by thinking up ludicrous fairytales to neatly cover up the fact she's been buggered to death and thrown in the sea.
Fucking hell, I swear she's more heavily advertised than Coca Cola.
Over in politics, 'Senior Labour figures' have said that there is "absolutely no appetite" to boot Gordon Brown out of Number 10. Quite how they can come to that conclusion when he has performed worse in his short time in office than any other Prime Minister in living memory has in a full term is far beyond my brand of drink-fugged logical thought, but I suspect it mght have something to do with the fact Blair cocked everything up, Brown has taken charge and turned the whole thing into a death-dive, and they think it's a better idea to crash, burn and start all over again than try to pull out of the slide that Brown seems to have greased under them.
I suppose in the wacky, short-memoried world of tabloid politics, Labour have a better chance of winning something again if they let the Conservatives win the next election, then start haranguing them from the benches for not giving everyone in Britain a Mercedes even though it was them that managed to fuck the economy up so hard that a video of it would probably be banned by their own new extreme pornography bill. Oh well.
In entertainment news (as if the Eurovision news hadn't already blown your senses - Ed.), it seems it's the end of American Idol, which means I'm free from my weekly two-hour torture session at the behest of the womenfolk, coo'ing and ahh'ing over the superficial shitty crooning. Unfortunately it also means no more of that pretty one Chinese one who's name I can't spell, so I'm coming over all emotional.
Actually, I'm not, but it's been a fucking boring blog today and I thought it needed a bit of passion.
Fucking hell, I'm missing the Formula One.
Goodnight.
Edit: Jose Mourinho can fuck off calling Avram Grant 'a loser'. I don't see where you beat Manchester United to the title the season before last. I don't see your Champion's League final appearance. Scratch your designer-stubbled chin and fuck off to Inter, you unbearable cunt.
In other news, a government think tank has risked the possibility of a tiny snotty riot by suggesting that long school holidays, including the long 3-month summer holiday that forms the setting of every memory of my childhood I have past about 17, should be abolished. Frankly, I don't see why this would benefit anyone. They say it's because kids regress in maths between terms, but the thing is, that's a completely artificial construct at the best of times - they either regress in little chunks between terms, or they come to the end of their school lives, completely loathing maths like any other normal human being, and promptly fuck off and forget it anyway. I'm not sure I could tell you what a quadratic equation even is anymore, let alone how to solve one.
Still, it's taking away one of the only perks there can possibly be to being a school teacher - the massive amounts of paid holiday. Higher education might be a worthy pursuit, but for all the adverts trying to tell me that teaching is a worthwhile endeavour, I still remember school and it was nothing like it is on the telly - you just couldn't broadcast that amount of swearing, drugs and sickening violence before the watershed. Schools are like glorified holding pens for children so stay-at-home mums (or dads) can get some fucking peace instead of constantly hoover-dodging some sugared-up brat screaming at the top of it's lungs, and, when they get a little older, to keep all the vicious little thugs in one place so we know where they are when they stab someone.
Earnings of what, you say? It's not nearly enough. Working with kids should be like other mentally and physically traumatic jobs, like working the oil rigs. 6 months on, 6 months off. And once a week you should get to punch a child in the face.
Oh, and the McCanns still haven't fucked off. Now they want to shit all over your Facebook and Bebo in a bid to keep up their international superstardom, further line their filthy little pockets, oh, and maybe, if there's time, find out what happened to their daughter. I don't use Facebook or Bebo - Bebo always seems to be for small children and paedophiles, and while I have an account with Facebook, I hardly ever use the thing because I don't understand why, when I have a phone, I really need a less-than-real-time method of interacting with only people I know. At least MySpace got it right when it realised it wasn't for people like me using their service to chat up impressionable emo girls, they'd have gone under - but I can't help but think that, if this trend continues, within six months, you won't be able to look at anything, anywhere, without seeing some sort of representation of Madeline fucking McCann.
I've had enough of being unable to buy a newspaper, turn on the television or go on the internet without having a 99.9% chance of seeing something to do with Madeline, and every time you think it's died down, it gets right back up again, snapping and snarling at your enjoyable media experience like a zombie in a bad horror movie. Do they really think she's still alive? Do they think she's been hiding under a bush, eating berries and giggling, all this time? My mother is absolutely convinced that a rich Portuguese couple who cannot medically have children have taken her and are raising her as their own, with the finest of everything money can buy. Frankly if you can't handle the truth, then just don't think about it, but don't damage yourself by thinking up ludicrous fairytales to neatly cover up the fact she's been buggered to death and thrown in the sea.
Fucking hell, I swear she's more heavily advertised than Coca Cola.
Over in politics, 'Senior Labour figures' have said that there is "absolutely no appetite" to boot Gordon Brown out of Number 10. Quite how they can come to that conclusion when he has performed worse in his short time in office than any other Prime Minister in living memory has in a full term is far beyond my brand of drink-fugged logical thought, but I suspect it mght have something to do with the fact Blair cocked everything up, Brown has taken charge and turned the whole thing into a death-dive, and they think it's a better idea to crash, burn and start all over again than try to pull out of the slide that Brown seems to have greased under them.
I suppose in the wacky, short-memoried world of tabloid politics, Labour have a better chance of winning something again if they let the Conservatives win the next election, then start haranguing them from the benches for not giving everyone in Britain a Mercedes even though it was them that managed to fuck the economy up so hard that a video of it would probably be banned by their own new extreme pornography bill. Oh well.
In entertainment news (as if the Eurovision news hadn't already blown your senses - Ed.), it seems it's the end of American Idol, which means I'm free from my weekly two-hour torture session at the behest of the womenfolk, coo'ing and ahh'ing over the superficial shitty crooning. Unfortunately it also means no more of that pretty one Chinese one who's name I can't spell, so I'm coming over all emotional.
Actually, I'm not, but it's been a fucking boring blog today and I thought it needed a bit of passion.
Fucking hell, I'm missing the Formula One.
Goodnight.
Edit: Jose Mourinho can fuck off calling Avram Grant 'a loser'. I don't see where you beat Manchester United to the title the season before last. I don't see your Champion's League final appearance. Scratch your designer-stubbled chin and fuck off to Inter, you unbearable cunt.
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